


And All of Our Flaws Are Laid Out Beneath Us (There's No Need to Keep Building Up These Walls)

by viciousmollymaukery



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Past Abuse, Pining, Yasha pov, author may have gone overboard with the symbolism, the Stormlord said gay rights!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24940750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viciousmollymaukery/pseuds/viciousmollymaukery
Summary: A sleepless night brings Yasha to seek out Beau. Turns out both are accustomed to restlessness, to sleepless nights that come from heavy hearts.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 12
Kudos: 170





	And All of Our Flaws Are Laid Out Beneath Us (There's No Need to Keep Building Up These Walls)

**Author's Note:**

> Yasha's second playlist dropped today and I realized I've never posted any beauyasha content despite being on that hype train from the start, so I had to do SOMETHING obviously. Yasha is my favorite character of the Nein so it's her POV, but that means it got way angstier than I thought it would so be forewarned.
> 
> Title is taken from Let Me Hold You by Nick Wilson from Yasha's second playlist, and you can bet I was listening to it on repeat while writing this.
> 
> Enjoy!

Yasha can’t sleep.

It’s not an uncommon occurrence. Between her dreams from the Stormlord and what her own mind tends to conjure up of its own volition, she’s fitful more nights than most. That can be a good thing though, especially on nights like this when they’re out on the road instead of safely inside somewhere, be it an inn or the Xhorhaus. She can remain quietly alert, scanning the area around them for potential threats. She’s already lost enough of her family—the colorful cloak hanging and billowing in the wind, as she knows in her heart of hearts that it is even now, stands as a damning testament to that.

It’s also why she sees a lone figure sitting perfectly straight up and cross-legged with its hands on its knees when she turns over onto her side, looking out over the edge of the cliff they’re camped out on tonight in the Ashkeeper Peaks, the wind catching a few strands of hair and pulling them gently. She’s seen her a lot. How could she not see her, with how incredibly _bright_ Beau is at all times? It’s like staring into a shining blue ocean, one she was growing more desperate to drown in with every beat of her heart.

So Yasha succumbs to her temptation to test the waters and carefully stands up, rolling Veth off of her leg to use Fjord’s bicep as a pillow. She’s fairly sure Beau can hear her approach, but she scuffs her heels a bit to make her presence known as she walks over the stone towards the mouth of their little cave, the Tiny Hut shimmering as she passes through it. She pauses when she reaches Beau, still standing a bit awkwardly and taking a moment to study her features. They’re smooth, relaxed, utterly at peace. She worries for a bit about disturbing her and ruining such an expression.

“Can’t sleep?” Those curved lips ask, then quirk up into a small smile as one impossibly blue eye opens a sliver to stare up at her.

Yasha shakes her head. “No,” she sighs, then sits down next to Beau just a few inches away, her legs dangling precariously over the ledge. She can feel the wind swirling around her ankles, greedy fingers trying to snag her downwards. The sound is tantalizingly like music. She extends one leg cautiously, watching the air ruffle the fur lining her boot, before letting it fall back down.

“Me neither,” Beau says softly, and shifts slightly, popping her back and rolling her shoulders before sitting straight up again, eyes closed once more. “Dairon’s said something about meditation and rest. Even sitting still with your eyes closed is better than tossing and turning all night. Still, easier said than done.”

“Mm hmm. And this is, uh, definitely not Nicodranas.” Yasha gestures out at the shades of gray that carve out the mountainous landscape around them, all harsh lines and jagged, crooked edges, taking it all in. A few stars twinkle through the gathering clouds. She swears she hears a distant roll of thunder.

There are no flowers here. She’s looked.

“It’s not so bad,” Beau says, and Yasha turns back. Beau isn’t looking out into what would be darkness to her human eyes. She’s looking directly at her, the intensity of that blue gaze pinning her down. She’s felt that kind of intensity once before, and with a pang drops her own eyes.

“I guess not,” Yasha says quietly, studying her clasped hands, looking at the chipped, dirty nails and occasional scab, thinking of the blood that’s on them and how unworthy they are of holding the magnificent woman next to her.

But oh, how she wants to.

They both pause as a brief gust sweeps through, sending Yasha’s hair flowing out back behind her. She throws back her head as if on instinct, smiling slightly at the small comfort.

“You grew up here, right? Near the south, I mean,” Beau asks.

Yasha nods. “I did,” she sighs. “We were, um… I think a bit more southeast from here, further from the mountains. It was…” She trails off a bit. She has so many mixed feelings about her time with her tribe. But, there’s one thing about it she has only _good_ feelings about.

“It was good and bad,” she settles. “But the good, it…” Her eyes sting, her throat burns, and her jaw starts to ache as the images come to her mind, unbidden. She lifts her head again, looking out at the land stretching out beneath her and beyond. Come to think of it, this _would_ be around the edge of her tribe’s territory. Has she haunted these mountains before? Are they stained with blood she’s spilled? Are they littered with corpses she’s left in her wake?

“I get it,” Beau whispers, and Yasha is surprised to hear the pain that tinges it. She sighs. “Kamordah was a bit like here," she begins. "Not quite as mountain-y, but enough that you _felt_ it, the earth rising and falling around you, you know?”

“I remember,” Yasha nods, trying to keep her face from twisting at the memories of their trip to the Empire and encountering Beau’s awful father. A sudden protective instinct rises in her and she wants nothing more than to whisk Beau away from here and go far, far away where nothing can be unkind to her ever again. She has her wings again, after all. Maybe she could put them to a more noble use this time around.

But she’s run away before, and look what that did to her.

“I had fun there sometimes,” Beau continues. She uncrosses her legs and swings them over the edge, dangling somehow recklessly even though their stances are similar now. “Mostly, I was messing with my dad, or with people around town just because.” Beau grins, propping herself up on her arms as they stretch out behind her. She lifts one leg and lets it hang over the other. “One time, this rival wine family started smearing us with these fliers, so I went to their winery in disguise and puked in their vat that had the entire season’s batch fermenting. My dad was a bit displeased with my methods, but the fliers were gone once their product was ruined, so I think it was a success.”

“That, uh, sounds like quite an adventure,” Yasha says as her own smile makes its way over her face.

“It was. But yeah, I get what you mean. About the good and the bad.” Beau kicks her legs a bit, her heels hitting against the stone and sending small pebbles and dust cascading far down below into what could very well be the vast, infinite dark. “I, uh, did a lot of shady shit. Just because I could, and I’m not proud of a lot of it. I mean, I’m not wallowing in shame every night or flagellating myself, but... I kinda cringe sometimes when I look back at teenage Beau and how she acted out just to act out, even when she knew it wouldn’t get her anything. Now, I act out with _purpose._ _”_

“Well,” Yasha murmurs, “I think this Beau is nice to be around. And I like it when she acts out.”

Beau laughs but quickly cuts off, covering her mouth and looking back at the blissfully oblivious Mighty Nein still snoring away inside the Tiny Hut. It’s a small gesture, but it’s so endearing and Yasha’s heart aches and aches and _aches—_

“I killed a lot of people,” Yasha whispers. She’s looking back at her hands now, feeling the phantom drips from the blood that covers them. She doesn’t even get to know how much there truly is. Probably _would_ never. Sometimes she can’t help but feel like everything she touches ends up coated in crimson. Would it seep through her skin and stain her soul, if it hadn’t already? Would trying to scrub them clean only sully them further? Would the water she longs to drown in only end up red and ruined?

When she speaks again, her words seem to echo out into the land below them, soaking in and memorializing her confessional. “My tribe called me Orphan Maker for a reason. I think Zuala was the only gentle thing in my life then, but then they... And then, after… with Obann, I think I did a lot of bad things there too. Being here… ever since I met you all, I think it’s the first time I’ve ever really...” Yasha trails off again. She’s not good with words, there’s so many of them and they can come in so many different orders and she doesn’t know how to _say…_

She feels more than she hears the movement beside her, and Beau carefully lays a hand on her knee, squeezing lightly. Her knuckles are bruised and bloody as always, but it’s still unbearably gentle and gives Yasha the courage to meet her eyes again, their faces barely an inch apart.

“Well, we’re here now,” Beau whispers with a smile, and somehow that’s enough.

“Yeah,” Yasha breathes, still staring at her, drinking in that lovely sight. “Yeah, you are.”

Her last thought before they both lean in and their lips meet is that drowning isn’t so painful after all. It’s soft and sweet and smells faintly like mint and has hair that feels finer than any silk ever woven between her fingers. It feels like a balm that could soothe all the hurts she’s felt and made. It feels like a happiness she never thought she would deserve or find ever again after it had been ripped from her. It feels like all her mistakes being stripped away to fall down into the valleys below.

But it _does_ feel like her lungs are on fire, Yasha realizes at some point, and they both have to pull away and breathe heavily. For a few horrible moments, she feels frozen. Not quite with terror, but with a solemn resignation. Beau will surely turn away awkwardly, or get up and leave, or sneer at her. This is the end of her time with the Mighty Nein.

“I-I’m sorry,” she mutters. She starts to get up, but another hand on her thigh stops her.

“Wait, I—shit, you don’t have to be _sorry_ ,” Beau says, eyes wide, cheeks pink. “I mean—I just—that was pretty nice,” she finishes.

“Oh.” Yasha sits back down. She’d hoped, oh how she’d hoped, but never _expected._ “I… thought it was pretty nice too,” she whispers.

Beau snorts a bit and giggles at that, and Yasha laughs lightly too. She swears she hears another crackle of thunder in the distance as Beau scoots closer to her and lays a head on her shoulder. Yasha leans her own head down against hers and wraps her arms around her, raising one hand to stroke her hair again.

They’re both quiet for a while after that, content to just be near each other for now. Yasha at least does not want to fuck this up, and this is already so much more than she ever thought was within her grasp. They can take this a step at a time. No need to get lost at sea.

“You wanna try too? Meditating, I mean?” Beau murmurs as the shades of the sky just begin to grow lighter, and Yasha can’t manage to convince herself she’s imagining how much more tender her voice sounds.

Yasha considers it for a while, then nods. “I think so. It can’t hurt, at least.” She still has so much anger, and sometimes it feels like no good way to direct it. But she has so many more reasons to learn, now.

“Alright.” Beau sits up again and faces out towards the mountains, still close enough that their shoulders touch. “Try to copy how I’m sitting, okay?”

Yasha arranges her legs and rests her palms on her knees, spine straight as an arrow—or greatsword. “Like this?”

Beau smiles, so wide that Yasha can’t help but smile too. “Yeah, just like that. Now, close your eyes and just… be.”

Yasha does just that, content in watching the light against her eyelids turn pink, still seeing Beau better than ever before in her mind’s eye, and wanting to look more every day after this.


End file.
